


Sizzle

by holyhouses (MIKTRONIK)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alpha Aziraphale (Good Omens), Alpha Original Character, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blind Character, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Disabled Character, Fights, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Art, M/M, Mating Bites, No beta we fall like Crowley, Omega Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Post-Canon, Slow To Update, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snakes, Swords, Tags May Change, Wings, Work In Progress, but only for celestial beings, humans are still normal humans, starts at the ritz like a gazillion other fics, temporary loss of vision
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MIKTRONIK/pseuds/holyhouses
Summary: It should've ended with them together, smiling as they look at each other, deeper, and see something in each other that they have always known, but have feared until now. It should've ended there.But outside of the bookshop, on the other side of the street, wrapped in shadows, a shape morphs, transforms, and stands upright for the first time in centuries....This should be fun.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)/Original Female Character(s), Crowley (Good Omens)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this beautiful work: https://bulirbiru.wordpress.com/2017/12/12/man-with-covered-eyes/  
> It isn't actually fanart of Crowley, but I stumbled across it (don't ask how) and realized that it looked like him. Like, a lot. So then of course I had to write something for it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tagged in relationships as Crowley/Male OC and Crowley/Female OC, but it's just one character, not two different OCs. I had to do this because there are no tags for nonbinary OC's in relationships! So yeah, that's why it looks so weird >:3

Freshly back in their own bodies, smelling like ozone and brimstone respectively and grinning like idiots, an angel and a demon raise a toast. "To the world." They look at each other, seeing nothing else, _loving._ Afterwards, they walk arm-in-arm to a vintage car that knows more than it should, a demon holds the door open for an angel, and a very confused nightingale suddenly realizes it doesn't know where it is and flutters off to somewhere unimportant.

The story should've ended there, with angel and demon, light and dark, content and safe. It should've ended with them together, smiling as they look at each other, _deeper,_ and see something in each other that they have always known, but have feared _until now_. It should've ended there.

But outside of the bookshop, on the other side of the street, wrapped in shadows, a shape morphs, transforms, and stands upright for the first time in centuries, mouth contorting into a hiss as its slitted eyes zero in on the demon and the angel walking unscathed and happy into the bookshop. It raises a dirty mobile phone with a cracked screen to its still-forming ear, and snarls.

"They're here," it says, mashing the words around in its new corporation's awkward, small mouth. "Their guard isss down. Basssstardss look _happy."_

A low, rich chuckle comes from the other end. " _Very good, ma chérie. Remember your orders. Gabriel wants the angel in pristine condition, but the demon..."_ A hideous sound, half growl, half laugh, struggles through the cheap speakers in a burst of white noise. _"Make him **suffer**."_

The figure grins. Huge, dark wings, the wings of an insect, unfurl from its back, and it laughs, venom dripping from its long fangs. "It will be my pleassssure, my lord."

* * * * *

"Make yourself comfortable," Aziraphale says, eyes twinkling as he leans close and presses a kiss to Crowley's cheek, and _oh,_ that's new. And Crowley's mouth drops open and _stays there,_ and Aziraphale, the _bastard,_ has the audacity to _smile_ at this display of shock before leaving to grab a bottle of wine. Shaking, the demon drops into his usual spot on the couch. His cheek burns. He can't tell if it's his stupid body deciding to blush in that precise spot, or a smidgen of divinity. He thinks about it, and promptly decides he doesn't particularly care.

With a sigh, he slouches back into the cushions of the couch. The piece of furniture embraces him, warm and soft, and he's just thinking he might take a short nap when warm, sulfurous breath puffs against his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Strange day, huh?" hums the voice near his head, and coils of snake press cold against the back of his neck, spill over his shoulder, pile onto the couch next to him in the shape of a human, until there is a rather human-looking creature sitting there, with long nails wrapped around the back of his neck.

"Hey, Kas," Crowley mutters, not even looking at them. "What do you need?"

Big, grey, slitted eyes blink back at him, looking mildly hurt. "I don't _need_ anything. Aren't I allowed to just talk to you?"

Crowley hisses in displeasure. "So you do. I thought we'd agreed to stay away from each other."

"Yes, we did, but I _can't_ ," Kas whispers, eyes wide and earnest. "It's easy for you, I never marked you as mine. But I can sense you every time I come up here, and it's driving me _mad_." They sigh. "I would find someone else, but to be honest I'm really only interested in other Serpents, and there aren't that many of us to choose from."

"Well, too bad for you then," Crowley grumbles.

"Oh _shut it,_ " the other demon snarls, claws digging into his neck. "Not all of us have a pretty angel to fuck." Crowley stiffens, and Kas huffs out a laugh.

" _We aren't fucking!_ "

Kas laughs again, louder this time. "That got your attention. And yes, you are most certainly... _involved,_ and every demon knows it." They grimace. "It's one thing we all agree on, for once. A general consensus has been reached that it is altogether _vile_."

"I swear by all Nine Circles of Hell that we aren't."

"Oh?" A smirk quirks the corner of Kas' too-wide mouth. "Then that means that you belong to me still, yes? Since you have no other suitors?"

"I don't belong to _you_. You said it yourself, you never marked me."

"Well then," Kas purrs, looming up over Crowley, eyes gleaming. "Why don't we remedy that? And don't worry," they say, dipping down to murmur into his ear. "The angel won't be listening, so you can scream as loud as you'd like."

Crowley's pupils shrink. _Fear._ " _What_ did you do to Aziraphale."

"Oh, nothing much. He's just sleeping. But he'll be alright. I have orders to make sure he makes it to Heaven unharmed. They have plenty planned for him, and it wouldn't do to break him before the fun even begins." Kas bares their fangs in a grin. "But you? You, I can do whatever I like to. And I am going to do what I should've done millennia ago."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ, I write such dark stories! And Crowley is always getting beat up in them. I'm so sorry Crowley. It's a good thing you have a badass angel on your side.
> 
> PSA: I wasn't planning to update so soon, but here I am. Don't expect other updates to come this fast, because I am a busy enby with poor time management skills, and it likely is not going to happen. Thank you.

Aziraphale wakes up, groaning and rubbing his sore back, on the floor near the wine cellar. There's wine all over the wall, shards of glass on the floor; he fixes them without thinking about it, and yawns. Something seems off.

He looks around. The wine bottle, hurled without care. The tears in his waistcoat. The rusty, generic, not-flaming sword lying on the floor. _Sleep._ Suddenly, it hits him full force, and he stumbles under the wave of anxiety and nausea.

A demon has been here. Spitting, cruel, tossing their half-shaven head and grinning like the sort of evil snake that Aziraphale is always glad Crowley is not. _Kasdeya,_ he remembers them saying, so saccharine-sweet that it's condescending. _But you can call me Kas._ The smile had deepened, then, become something ugly. _I'm Crawly's... ex-significant other._

He rubs his head. Crowley's never mentioned anything about a significant other before, not when he and Kas were, according to the younger snake, together, nor when they split. He doesn't blame his friend though. Kas is, as Crowley would say, "a bloody annoying cunt".

"Speak of the devil..." Aziraphale mutters, "where is he?" He waves a hand over his ruined jacket and it becomes new. "Crowley, dear?" he calls out, shuffling toward the back room where Crowley had been earlier. "Where are you? Are you alright?"

Silence. The Chesterfield sofa is empty and cold. There are no warm, yellow eyes waiting there, no sardonic smirk or snarky comment, no flame-red hair. "Crowley...?" he whispers.

Shaking with another bout of sudden fear, Aziraphale desperately casts out his senses, and immediately finds what he's looking for. Gasping, he lifts the sofa, lets it slam back down, picks up the chair next. " _Crowley_! Wherever you are, say something! Please!" Immediately, he hears a soft whimper. Almost nothing. Crowley's essence flickers in his mind, and he follows the sound. Near the closet door, he can see what Kas has done, the evidence littered all over the hardwood floor. There's shreds of fabric there, a jacket and a waistcoat the most recognizable out of the articles of clothing there, although he can see strips of denim there too, remnants of black jeans that make him physically sick to see. There's hair, both short red curls and long black strands, and feathers, both long black flight feathers and tufts of down. And there's ichor, puddles of it, so much demonic blood pooled there that a wild thought of, _maybe some of it is Kas'. Maybe it isn't as bad as it looks,_ crosses his mind, an impossible and fleeting hope that dissolves as soon as he turns the latch and opens the door, and Crowley tumbles out into his arms.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale whispers in horror as he takes in the demon in his arms. He's bruised, sweaty, heavy, and _all wrong_. His skin is split along his sides, arms, legs, in several places, still trickling ichor, scales are popping up along his skin, and he looks so exhausted and afraid, his huge eyes glassy and unfocused, the pupils narrower than he's ever seen them before in the darkness of the bookshop.

His tongue flicks out quickly, several times. "Angel?" he finally rasps out, voice rough and cracking, and Aziraphale's heart breaks.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale says. His voice wavers, and he chokes out a sob. "How... how could this happen? How could I let this happen to you?" Crowley just stares, keeps muttering "angel, angel", and Aziraphale realizes he must be in shock. "I-I... don't know what to do," Aziraphale admits, burrowing his face in Crowley's shoulder, then leaps back in horror.

Tooth marks, fanged, slightly acrid-smelling with venom. They're already scabbing over, and Aziraphale feels a burning flash of rage as his vision flashes. _That **bitch.**_ Kas had _marked_ him, effectively ruined his usefulness to any other alpha. Aziraphale lifts his trembling friend as he scrambles to his feet. 

"I'm going to draw you a bath," the angel whispers, pressing his lips to Crowley's hair. "We need to get these cuts clean, and get some of this venom out of your neck."

Crowley whimpers, fisting his hand in Aziraphale's jacket. He hides his face. Aziraphale strokes his hair back as his blue eyes crackle with contained lightning.

"And then, I am going to smite a demon."


End file.
